


The Walls Will Fall (Before We Do)

by A_Kid_Named_Hiro



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 16:58:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13815498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Kid_Named_Hiro/pseuds/A_Kid_Named_Hiro





	The Walls Will Fall (Before We Do)

They should not be doing this by the doorway. 

The walls are thin here. The neighbors, nosy. The hour is late. Too quiet. It makes Madara too aware of each sound. 

Rustle of fabric. Tobirama's back to the door. His breaths against Madara's cheek. His hand, creeping through the thick mass of Madara's hair. His fingers, a firm, callused grip upon his nape. 

His other hand beneath Madara's face, cupping his chin, tilting upward. Their gazes lock. Tobirama's lips sliding against his. Their kiss is a mess. An urgent part of lips. A hurried meeting of tongues, caressing. 

Tobirama tastes like desire, untamed. It makes Madara moan with want. His arms move to curl around Tobirama's neck, fingers tangling into the soft strands of his hair. Their bodies are flush. Madara can feel Tobirama harden against him. The sensation makes his own cock throb with need.

They part for breath. Tobirama's eyes are a deep crimson, blood and heat. "On your knees," he says, softly. The command in his voice is unmistakable, unmissable.

A shiver, electric and blade-sharp, makes its way along Madara's spine. He promptly obeys. 

He unfastens Tobirama's pants. His fingers hook the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down to his thighs. Tobirama's cock, hard and beautiful. 

Madara presses his mouth to the broad head. Precum slicks his lips. The masculine scent of Tobirama. The heat of him. It makes Madara dizzy with want.

 _"Suck,"_ Tobirama commands.

Madara does. He slides his mouth along Tobirama, curls his tongue against the ridged underside, traces the large vein along the shaft. 

He hears Tobirama hiss. Madara looks up to find Tobirama staring at him, eyes darkening with obvious pleasure. 

Madara licks and sucks, makes a show of it. He pulls back, slow, hollowing his cheeks. One hand on Tobirama's hip. One curled around the base of his cock. 

He slides his lips off Tobirama's cock. The sound it makes is thoroughly obscene. Madara grins, all teeth. "I could bite this off."

Tobirama smirks. Amused glint in his eyes. "You wouldn't," he says, cocky and teasing. "You'd miss it too much."

Madara says nothing. A reply isn't needed, for Tobirama speaks the truth and they both know it.

Tobirama's hand on his head, guiding. Madara follows. He swirls his tongue around the head of Tobirama's cock, dips his tongue into the slit. 

Tobirama's grip tightens. He pushes, insistent. Impatient. 

Madara complies. He slides down again, tongue flattening itself against too-hot skin. Over the head, along the thick shaft. He does not stop. Not until Tobirama is fully sheathed inside him. His gaze does not leave Tobirama's for a moment.

His hands rest upon Tobirama's hips, steadying them both. His lips are stretched thin around the base of Tobirama's cock. He can feel the soft skin of Tobirama's balls against his lower lip. The fine curls of pubic hair against his nose. The flared head of Tobirama's cock in the back of his throat.

Madara swallows. 

Tobirama's hips snap forward, his spine arching. His hand, a harsh grip upon Madara's hair. Fingers drawing blood from his scalp. Madara's nerves are aflame with pain and so much need. His throat burns. Spit dribbles down his chin. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes. It is difficult not to gag, but he fights the reflex. He will endure all discomforts, for he _wants_ this. Knows that Tobirama wants this too. 

For Tobirama, he would give _anything._

Tobirama's breath is harsh. His muscles, taut. 

Beneath his tongue, Tobirama is velvet-smooth and furnace-hot. His gaze upon Madara. It does not wander. His eyes are intense, bright with blatant hunger. His hand, a controlling grip upon Madara's hair.

Madara shudders with desire, unchecked. His hands tighten their hold upon Tobirama's hips. His thumbs brush the hard lines of Tobirama's Adonis belt. 

Another hard thrust into his throat. Madara knows that speech would be a painful thing tomorrow. He does not care. 

Between his legs, Madara's cock is wet and throbbing. He does not touch himself. His pleasure is Tobirama's to take. 

Tobirama's cock. It pulses inside him, thrusts harsh and arrhythmic. There is so much heat. Within his throat. Upon his tongue. Along the walls of his mouth. Madara doesn't care if he is burned from the inside out. It would be a good way to die. 

The sharp hitch of Tobirama's breath. Madara knows that sound. He tightens his lips around Tobirama's cock. Moans around it. 

And Tobirama comes. 

Madara feels the violent spasm of Tobirama's cock. The hard thrust of his shaft. The wet heat of his release, sliding down his throat.

  


* * *

  


There is so much power in him. 

Madara can feel it. In the defined width of Tobirama's shoulders. In the broad planes of his chest. The strength of his grip. The rapid thrusts of his hips. 

Madara is too aware of it all. Power and strength radiating off Tobirama like violent waves. 

Now, it is Madara who's got his back to the door. He is being ruthlessly fucked against it, arms and legs wrapped tight around Tobirama for support. 

His voice is hoarse. His throat hurts, but he cannot help but cry out anyway. 

Tobirama is too much. He is everywhere, the sight and sound and feel of him filling Madara's body. Tobirama steals into his breath, slips beneath his veins, creeps into his lungs. Drowns him from the inside out. Madara would die willingly as long as it is by Tobirama's hand.

Madara's hands sweep from the back of Tobirama's head to the sides of his face. He presses his palms against Tobirama's sweat-slick skin. Gently caresses the tattoos high upon his cheeks. 

Tobirama's hands are rough and gentle upon his lower back. Madara can feel his fingers along the bumps of his spine. Up, down, up, down, up, _down, down, down._ A lone finger trailing his skin. Sliding into the crevice of his ass. 

Madara gasps. His hands falter. They find purchase upon the sides of Tobirama's neck. He can feel the thump of Tobirama's pulse beneath his palm.

They kiss. 

Madara trembles. With the pleasure of Tobirama's touch, his breath, his cock that's deep inside him. With the memory of that same cock in his mouth just moments ago. Madara can still taste him. He wonders if Tobirama can taste himself upon his tongue.

How erotic, their unique flavors, mingling. The very thought of it makes Madara clench hard around Tobirama's cock.

Tobirama's gasp of pleasure. His thrusts quicken. His finger strokes the place they're joined, the skin stretched thin around him. It sends shockwaves of pleasure through Madara's spine. His hands slip to Tobirama's shoulders, nails digging crescents into his flesh. His legs tighten around Tobirama's ribs. Rough, broken moans are pulled from his abused throat.

They are rabid, desperate things. Madara feels the wood of the door chafe his back. He thinks that he might fall through it, crash into the hallway with Tobirama on top of him, still inside him. He wouldn't care if the world saw them right now. He wouldn't care, as long as Tobirama doesn't stop fucking him.

Their breaths are harsh. Tobirama's hand moves. Slides between their bodies. His fist closes around Madara's cock.

Madara cries out, hands coming to rest once again upon Tobirama's nape, fingers lacing. He is close, so fucking _close._ Tobirama jerks him off in an erratic rhythm. The head of his cock against Madara's prostate. It sends sharp bolts of pleasure through Madara, makes him clench and buck and scream Tobirama's name.

The fist tightening around his cock. Tobirama's thumb pressing into his slit. Tobirama, all over him, inside him. 

Orgasm is wrenched from him, quick, merciless. Madara spasms violently with the force of it, head slamming so hard against the door, he's almost certain he can hear it crack.

Tobirama's teeth upon his neck. He bites down, and Madara can feel his blood seep from broken skin. Feels the moment Tobirama comes inside him, in the harshness of his grip, the brutality of his bite, his sharp exhalation.

He gulps for air. Tobirama's hands. They are comforting things, wandering over his skin, drawing soothing patterns upon his back. 

Madara calms. He presses close. Buries his face in the crook of Tobirama's neck. Limbs still wrapped around Tobirama like he might die if he lets go.

So he doesn't.

And Tobirama holds him.


End file.
